


How Hawk Moth got his Groove back

by KryallaOrchid



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Complete crack, Not meant to be taken seriously in the slightest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KryallaOrchid/pseuds/KryallaOrchid
Summary: Hawk Moth faces his greatest obstacle yet in his fight against Ladybug and Chat Noir - himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm not sorry._   
>  _Written for the Ladies of the Eye of the Tiger Bra Chat group. This is all your fault._   
>  _Warning: Crack. Delicious crack._

## A Tiger Bra Story

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a prince… ‘cause this is how those sorts of stories start, isn’t it? A prince, and a kingdom and a plucky young girl in a red spotted suit to save the day.

Bollocks to that, I say.

The ‘kingdom’ was Paris, but I suppose if you asked the people of Paris, they’d be quite certain they lived in a kingdom of sorts, without the king himself. But they do have a royal brat princess. However, this story isn’t about her, not because it’s not interesting, but she happens to be having a manicure right now and couldn’t be bothered memorising her lines.

So, we have a prince. A merchant prince! Yes, that’s so much better. A great designer. A tycoon, one could say, if one could get a hold of the merchant prince in question, which is really very difficult, especially if you’re called “Adrien Agreste.” There’s even a waiting list for him. “All fatherly appointments must be made a month in advance, application pending approval.” Poor kid.

In a sense, if you squint and tilt your head and recite the alphabet backward in Chinese (traditionally there is no Chinese alphabet, which Adrien knows because he’s studied), this story is about him. Him, his spandex black kitten suit (and rippling pectorals), and the lovely red spotted maiden who stole his heart.

Well… he gets to watch anyway.

It was a dark and stormy night and Hawk Moth was in his cave (which was really more like a butterfly aviary that only stocks one sort of butterfly and no one would want to visit anyway, but let’s not ruin his hopes and dreams). But, alas, on this dark and stormy night, he wasn’t alone in his nefarious lair of evil doings and pretty bugs. Instead, he was facing off against another merchant prince in a bright peacock outfit who had just burst into aforementioned cave.

“Well, this is a right corker,” Hawk Moth said.

“It’s a cock up,” Paon quipped.

“Moth you?” Hawk Moth replied and picked the bridge of his nose. “It’s bad enough that I get it from Adrien! I don’t need it from you too.”

Regal, Paon fluttered both fan and eyelashes. “He did learn from the best.”

Hawk Moth eyed his counterpart, crossing his arms over his chest in dismay. “Can you please stop moving? That tail shaking is—”

Paon swished around to show off the tail and the hindquarters which came with it. “Strangely erotic?”

Hawk Moth wasn't going to admit to that. “Annoying.”

“You are fully aware it does it on its own.” Paon frowned and turned back around, tail feathers dusting the floor (and leaving feather marks, how long had it been since Hawk Moth cleaned?). “I came here expecting to put an end to this debacle, but instead… I guess you found it.”

Hawk Moth inclined his head. “I did. The legendary sloth kwami, so slow it goes back in time.”

“And you came back here? Of all the times you could go, you chose this one? Why didn’t you come back six months before this started!”

Hawk Moth waved his hand dismissively. “There were compelling reasons. The earrings and the ring were here, for one.”

“Ahh. And how’s that going for you?” Paon smirked. “Seems like you’re having a little bit of… dysfunction.”

Scowling, Hawk Moth cut his hand through the air. “Do not make erectile jokes with me.”

“Don’t make it so easy. So what happened?”

Hawk Moth sighed and scrunched up his face in disgust. “Fu’s a bit more… clever than I thought. He gave them to different people this time around.”

Paon’s eyebrows shot up. “Say again?”

“It wasn’t supposed to be Adrien. It was never supposed to be Adrien,” Hawk Moth said and his shoulders slumped. “It was supposed to be the Gorilla and Nathalie.”

Paon burst into laughter. “Nathalie?  _Our_  Nathalie? She was chosen to be Ladybug?”

Hawk Moth covered his face with his hand. “It was going to be easy. Scare Fu into giving the miraculous out prematurely. Take them while they were still learning. Done. And we can have what we always wanted.”

“Our wife back?”

Hawk Moth shoved his hood back with such dramatic flair that Lady Gaga herself would swoon to reveal a shiny chrome-dome. “Our hair!”

Paon went straight from zero chill to full on panic attack. “ _WHAT DO YOU MEAN OUR HAIR? WHERE DOES OUR HAIR GO_?!”

Hawk Moth heaved in a sigh. “Mostly down the toilet like our hopes and dreams in Adrien’s future.”

Meanwhile, several miles away, in his one and only appearance in this story, one young Adrien was busy making out with his hot girlfriend, only to be filled by inevitable dismay that he may have disappointed someone. Again. He gasped and pulled away from his hotalicious girlfriend, clutching at his chest. “I feel a great disturbance!”

“In your pants?” Marinette cooed. Clad in only a tiger bra and pants, she walking her fingers down his bare chest.

“You’re both disgusting,” Plagg muttered, then looked towards the reader. “What are you doing here? The story’s over there. Shoo. All you’ll get is more mouth-breathing making out here and no one wants that.”

Tikki, her cheeks full of cookies and not sage advice, simply nodded.

The reader, much to the writer’s disappointment, followed Plagg’s advice and returned to the Butterfly cave where Paon was busily making Hawk Moth’s prediction into reality by ripping out huge chunks of his magnificent hair. “My beautiful, beautiful hair. How can this be?”

Hawk Moth watched his younger, more handsome and hairer self with level gaze. “I’m starting to form a theory.”

Paon, with little bits of bleached platinum hair sticking out between his gloved fingers, pointed at Hawk Moth. “This is your fault!”

“My fault!” Hawk Moth shrilled, deeply wounded, especially since his younger self was the problem. “How is it my fault!?”

“If you’d taken out the trash, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

Wondering what drugs he’d taken in the seventies had caused this sort of delusion, Hawk Moth retorted, “We live in a mansion! We have staff for that!”

Paon’s tail fanned, quivering and shaking in anger, an undulating flurry of brilliant blue and eyes which stared straight into Hawk Moth’s very soul and questioned what the absolute fuck was going on. “If you’d taken out the trash, she wouldn’t have left us! Then we’d still have all our hair!”

“Me? If you had better fashion sense, she’d still be here!”

Paon gasped, shocked. Tears pricked his icy blue eyes and his bottom lip quivered. “That was a low blow.”

“I’d forgotten how emotional Dusuu made us,” Hawk Moth said in a tone they only reserved for Adrien. “Do I need to send you to your room?”

Paon shook with rage. “THAT WORKS ON OUR SON, YOU IGNORAMUS, NOT ON ME!”

Hawk Moth rolled his eyes. “Calm down Shakira.”

“I have no idea who that is!” Paon declared, tossing up his hands.

“Acid wash jeans? I mean, seriously. What were you thinking?”

Veins in Paon’s neck bulged. “I STARTED THE TREND!”

“YOU RUINED ACID WASH JEANS!”

“YOU RUINED FISHNET STOCKINGS!”

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT! WE MADE THEM LOOK GOOD!”

“You’re right,” Paon said, calming down. “The Gabooty in fishnet stocking and cut-off acid wash jean-shorts was to die for.”

Hawk Moth sighed in fond remembrance. “Those were the days.”

“And hair bows. I miss them so much.”

 “Scrunchies were cool.”

“The parachute pants were a mistake.”

Hawk Moth bristled. “That was a dare!”

“We seem to be getting off tangent,” Paon muttered, casting a cool gaze around the room as if looking for Trixx, kwami of deception, to see if she was playing tricks on them and completely missing the gaggle of giggling women wearing tiger bras huddled around a laptop in the corner of the room.

“Yeah. It’s almost as though an unseen force is making us reminisce about the good old days.”

“When you were hot.”

“When we were hot,” Hawk Moth corrected.

Paon puffed up like a… well… a peacock. “Speak for yourself, I still have all my hair!”

Hawk Moth’s eyes blew wide. “Now who’s aiming low.”

Paon thrust out his hand and ruffled his feathers. “You’re from the future! Don’t they have treatment for it yet?”

“No!” Hawk Moth shrieked and clawed at his shiny dome. “No one can come up with anything! It’s hideous and awful and I’m willing to do anything to get my glorious plumage back! Including coming back to this god-forsaken time to steal the ring and the earrings in an attempt to gain ultimate power and will the ultimate crest into existence!”

“Why don’t you just akumatise a hair specialist and get them to create cure?”

Hawk Moth stopped. Stared.

Paon smirked and folded his arms on his chest. “As long as you don’t send it after that pesky little bug, they’ll keep working for you until they get a cure.”

A slow grin formed on Hawk Moth’s face. “Well. Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I just did,” Paon noted and shined his nails on his chest. “A brilliant idea, if I do say so myself. Really, you should’ve come to me right in the beginning. We could’ve sorted this whole mess a lot sooner. Plus, if we corner the market in hair product, we’re set to double our fortune.”

Hawk Moth extended his hand to himself. “Partners in crime?”

Paon sniffed, haughtily. “Have you washed that recently? I think some of your little friends have been using it as a lavatory.”

Hawk Moth wiped his hand on his chest. “It’s good for the pores.”

“So, any juicy gossip from the future?”

Hawk Moth laughed. “Oh, you are not going to believe—”

Later, much later, making his second appearance in a story where he was supposed to be the princess and somehow got to mack-on his girlfriend instead, Adrien walked into his father’s office to see his, pompous, puffed-up, prick of father in a full face mud mask and vigorously applying liquid to his head.

Gabriel didn’t even pause as Adrien entered.

Snorting, Adrien asked, “Is that Rogaine?”

Gabriel cast a glare at his disappointment of a son and ignored the sudden snort which came from his son’s pocket. “It's preventative!”

Adrien made a noise which somehow resembled a hyena’s laugh mangled up with a frog’s croak. “Is your hair falling—”

Gabriel sniffed in disdain. “I do not want to talk about it.”

Adrien smirked. “Would you like me to comb-over there and help you?”

Gabriel’s look would have withered flowers, had there been any in the room. “Adrien—”

“It appeared out of thin hair, I mean air.”

Gabriel disapproved, like he did with everything in his life. “Watch yourself, son. You know what they say; the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.”

“What do you m—  _NOOOOOO_!!!!!!”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy April Fool's Day!


End file.
